


In the Dark

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Friendship, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Leaving Feast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-01
Updated: 2008-03-01
Packaged: 2018-10-27 08:12:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10805226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: There are many different ways of being kept in the dark.





	In the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Beta work by wolfiekins

 

 

_“Ron! No!”_

Ron woke up suddenly, sitting up in his bed, breathing heavily with sweat running down the side of his face. The memories of the past screamed for attention as he fought to dispel the nightmares that were all too familiar for him. The anguished scream from the woman he loved and the flash of light that had brought the Final Battle to a close still echoed through his mind as he fought to calm himself. 

His head  pounded, beating out a strange rhythm in time with his racing heartbeat. His fists clenched in anticipation for a danger that had long since passed.  

_In and out_ …he repeated to himself, practicing the techniques that he had scoffed at but secretly used, in an attempt to steady his breathing. 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, pushed aside the light blanket that had covered him, and rested his head in his hands.  

_Deep breaths in and out…._

But it was difficult to fight the familiar panic and to suppress the memories…

_“Ron, hang on please…Ron you can’t leave me, not like this, not now…please…help is coming Ron…hang on…I love you.”_

It was the memory of Hermione’s voice; her anguished cries for him to hang on, to stay with her.  The flood of images forced him to remember the techniques that he had learned.

_Touch something, memorise it, bring yourself back to the present…_

He brought his hands down to the soft sheets that lay upon the bed. Soft sheets that Hermione had insisted upon when they had moved into the small flat. He smiled slightly at the happier memory as he sensed the first hint of calm creep into his being, his ragged breaths slowly smoothing out.  

He remembered the day they had found the small flat situated in Muggle London with easy access to the Magical world. It had been the best combination of the two worlds which allowed them both to escape into anonymity from time to time. That small flat had provided the balance that they both needed, allowing regular but not constant family visits, as well as a small bit of much needed privacy as they began their new life together. 

Hermione insisted that the ideal flat be compact and comfortable rather than small, and there was no denying the truth when they'd found it. Ron knew they'd located their new home the very first time he'd  walked through the front door and had to carefully navigate his way around the entire flat. He knew it when he had heard the muttered curses from Fred and George when they had helped with the big move, when they'd both had numerous painful encounters with various doors and pieces of furniture. But he didn’t care; this was his refuge and his home. 

The home he and Hermione were sharing together.

He remembered their first night alone in the flat with a smile, and felt the memories of the battle began to fade. He became more aware of the familiar room, and the comforting presence lying beside him.

He stilled and tried to be as quiet as possible, as he waited. He knew that if Hermione had woken up, she would have been by his side by now, whispering comforting words into his ear. But he was relieved to hear her steady breathing through the darkness. She was still asleep. He couldn’t see her through the all-encompassing darkness, but he was sure that she had not been woken up. He always felt guilty when she had been disturbed in the middle of the night, although he knew that she didn’t blame him in the slightest. 

But these were his demons to deal with.

He knew from experience, however, that he wouldn’t be going back to sleep any time soon.

The night had been warm and stifling, the open window  providing only a pitifully weak breeze that did little to cool the room. He ignored the slippers that sat at the side of their bed, stood up and made his way barefoot across the bedroom towards the door. 

There was no hesitation and no stumbling as he walked across the small dark room.

He knew the floor plan of the entire flat very well, and was very practiced at making his way across the bedroom in the middle of the night, in the dark.

It didn’t take him long to navigate the dark hallway and reach the kitchen. He didn’t even bother to reach for his wand or switch on a light. There was no point, as he was treading a very familiar path. 

His bare feet padded across the cool tiled floor as he reached instinctively for the anti-headache potion bottles stored in the cupboard above the sink. He downed the vile tasting potion concoction? and made his way to the nearby window, opening it slowly and breathing in the night air.

The nightmares were always the same; they never varied and always left him unable to sleep. When he fell asleep and let his defences drop, The Final Battle would begin to replay over and over again.

Almost immediately, he could again hear the directions of the Order shouted over the chaos of the battle scene.  The yells and screams echoed in his head,  and he could see the terrified faces of his family. He could see the familiar faces of those he loved frozen in time at a moment of stress and fear. He saw the promise in Hermione’s eyes as he felt her lips brush against his in a promise of an uncertain future. 

And the last thing he always saw as his dreams faded was the flash of blue light racing towards him, causing the surroundings to fade to shadows and then to darkness. The last thing he always heard as reality returned was Hermione’s screams as he took the force of the spell and went flying through the air.

He didn’t even hear the kitchen door opening quietly, but he had to smile when he felt familiar arms wrapping around him and a familiar voice whispering.

“You should have woken me up Ron.”

He rested his hands upon hers and she leant onto his back.

“You shouldn’t have to keep waking up in the middle of the night ‘luv. I know you have to get up early for work tomorrow.”

He could almost sense her disapproving look.

“But that’s not nearly as important as making sure that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine Hermione,” he said as he closed his eyes and relished the slight breeze through the open window.

“You’re lying to me Ron.”

He took a deep breath of the heavy night air in an attempt to steady his nerves. He had to protect Hermione. He had to keep up the charade.  I really am fine now Hermione.”

he wasn’t buying his lies, though. “Was it the Battle again?” she asked, her voice cutting through the silence.

“Yeah, it was.”  He had to admit as his hands intertwined with hers.  He couldn't lie to her.

“You should take some Dreamless Sleep, you know that.  At the very least it’ll allow you to get a decent night's sleep every now and then. This isn’t good for you.”

“I don’t need the potion,” Ron said as they began an all too familiar discussion. “Besides, there’s no point really.”

He felt Hermione suddenly release her hold on him. 

She turned him around quickly and rested her hands on the sides of his face. She pulled him down slightly and stood on her toes so that he was eye to eye with her.  “Of course there’s a point Ron, which is that you won’t be exhausted all the time and that you’ll be able to actually rest.” She paused for a moment, anticipating his argument and continuing before he could say it. “I know you couldn’t take it forever, that it’s addictive and won’t solve the problem in the long-term. But it will give you some respite in the meantime and allow your body a chance to recover.” 

There was a moment of silence before Ron voiced the thought they both shared.  “Give my body and my mind a chance to rest, that’s what you mean isn’t it?”

Hermione sighed.  “Ron, that’s not…”

But he interrupted her.  “No Hermione, that is what you meant isn’t it?”  His voice increased in volume, his uncertainty clearly evident.  It’s what he thought himself; it’s what he feared. But the   feeling that the woman he loved shared that fear made everything seem so much more real, so much more terrifying.

“Maybe,” Hermione whispered before she placed a gentle kiss upon his lips and then pulled him into a tight hug. “Just promise me you’ll think about it,” she breathed into his ear “Promise me, Ron.”

That would be an easy promise to make.  “Of course I promise Hermione.”

It was actually all he could think about. It preoccupied his every waking moment and invaded his dreams at night. How could he tell her that she only knew half the reasons why he wouldn’t take the potion? How could he tell her that the main reason he wouldn’t take Dreamless Sleep was that he didn’t want the dreams to stop.

The dreams were terrifying and horrific, memories of a moment when everything changed. The dreams were filled with the terrified faces of the people he loved, with the faces of people who did not survive. 

But they were also a reminder of the last moments that he could see. They were the only times that he could see Hermione’s face, his family’s faces, the last moment when he saw Harry before he stepped into that final confrontation that would change everything forever. 

The dreams were an almost tangible reminder of the images and colours that were lost for him when that spell stole his sight from him, when he was left completely blind.

He was tortured daily by the fact that the last moment he could see was inextricably linked with pain and disaster. He was plagued by the realisation that the dreams that haunted him were the only moments now that he could still see. He was tormented by the fact that the very last thing he would ever see was the blue light of the spell that blinded him.

So, for now, he would keep the woman that he loved in the dark. 

 

_**~ * ~** _


End file.
